


poems about warrior spirit

by coricomile



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 04:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: "Looks good," Geno says against Sid's shoulder. His hand slides up Sid's chest, his palm catching over Sid's nipple in a way that makes Sid shiver. He doesn't touch the cut again, but he runs his fingertip lightly around it, his thumb brushing over Sid's adam's apple. "Not as good as puck to face, but close."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Have some softcore old marrieds porn inspired by Sid's puck to the almost-throat as can be seen [here ](http://hazel3017.tumblr.com/post/159148135613/for-anon-sidney-crosby-shows-off-his-warrior-wound). No actual poetry involved.

Sid doesn't actually like getting hurt. It's part of his job, par for the course really, but it doesn't mean he particularly likes it the way some of the other guys do. They show off their scars in bars to pretty girls, compare fractures and grossness of wounds and bruises while they heal. Sid mostly gets annoyed. 

"Whole team riot if you on IR, too," Geno says. He slots himself neatly behind Sid, his hands resting on the bathroom counter, his bare chest warm against Sid's back. Sid's been poking at the cut on his chest, leaned in close to the mirror to see better. It's not deep, but it'll probably scar. 

"Don't jinx it," Sid says automatically. It's a minor miracle that they're even where they are right now. The baby Pens have been great, and Sid has told each and every one of them that they've made a difference to the team because it's true, but- But the playoffs are a way different thing than the AHL, and no one can make up for Geno and Tanger and Olli. 

"No more block with throat," Geno says. His reflection in the mirror is grinning, eyebrows raised and lips quirked up, but he sounds serious. 

"I didn't actually mean to do that," Sid whines. He's fucking lucky that the puck didn't get him in the windpipe and he knows it. He leans back against Geno because he can, because he's tired and it's been a long, long season and hopefully it'll be an even longer playoffs run. Geno hums, one arm sliding around Sid's waist, the other curling around his chest. 

It's moments like these that get Sid through. His life has been hectic since puberty, full of places he needed to be and people he needed to talk to and charm and routines to be upkept. But Geno is solid and warm behind him, his touch more grounding than suffocating. He pushes and he drives Sid crazy on a daily basis, but this- this is going to be happening for the rest of their lives, long after their bodies give up. Geno's always going to be his quiet place in the storm. 

Geno touches his fingers to the swollen, hot skin around the cut, gentle as he traces an edge. It's not that big an injury, but it'll pull at his skin as it scabs over, will get irritated under his pads, will sting every time he sweats. It's going to take forever to heal and Sid's already cranky about it. He hisses when Geno presses down harder. 

"Fucking ow," he says, batting Geno's hand away. Geno gives him a sheepish smile before leaning down to kiss the side of Sid's neck. He lingers there, his weight slowly pushing Sid into the counter. He's not subtle, but Sid likes when people are straightforward with him. He doesn't have time to figure people out for context clues or whatever. It works well between them. 

"Looks good," Geno says against Sid's shoulder. His hand slides up Sid's chest, his palm catching over Sid's nipple in a way that makes Sid shiver. He doesn't touch the cut again, but he runs his fingertip lightly around it, his thumb brushing over Sid's adam's apple. "Not as good as puck to face, but close."

"Fuck you," Sid huffs, fighting against the laugh building in his chest. Geno steps closer, bending just enough to press his half-hard cock against Sid's ass. 

"I'm try," Geno says. It's so stupid that Sid _has_ to laugh then. Geno tells the worst jokes and has found a way to turn absolutely everything into an innuendo, and Sid should be turned off by it. He really should be. Unfortunately- or maybe fortunately, if he wants to look at it differently- he's not. 

Sid tips his head back against Geno's shoulder, eyes slipping closed as Geno rubs a lazy hand over his stomach. He's exhausted and sore, the game catching up to him, but he doesn't want to move to the bedroom yet. He's boxed in between Geno and the sink, both of them holding him up, and it feels lazy and indulgent in a way he hasn't been able to have for a long time. Geno slips his hand into Sid's sweats and Sid leans back to give him room. 

"Gonna scar," Geno says as wraps his fingers around Sid's cock. Sid glances at the mirror. Geno's staring at the cut, his fingertips still stroking over the skin just outside of it. "You big badass."

"You like it," Sid says. He gets it; sometimes he looks at the scar on Geno's cheek, the one on his collarbone, the one on his knee and gets hot. It means Geno's tough. It means he's been hurt, but come back stronger. Geno just hums again and rocks his hips against Sid's. 

Sid braces himself against the counter, bending forward just enough to give Geno a good angle. Every part of him is humming, a low buzz he's in no rush to get rid of. Geno brushes his thumb over the cut, deliberate and just a little mean, and Sid jerks. Geno hisses out a sharp breath, his fingers going tighter on Sid's cock. Sid's chin drops against his chest and groans. He pushes back against Geno as best he can, a pale imitation of the fucking they don't have the time or energy for. 

Sid feels like he's floating. Everything he is has been reduced to Geno's hard, efficient strokes, to Geno's hips grinding against him hard enough to push him into the counter, to the spike of pain every time Geno touches the cut. It can't last forever, but Christ he wants it to. He forces his eyes open and looks into the mirror. 

He looks like a fucking mess. His hair has dried into sloppy curls and his skin is an unflattering red all the way down to where the counter cuts off his view. Four short, bright welts sit just below the irritated wound from where Geno keeps sinking his nails in. Geno, though- Geno's eyes are so dark in the mirror, his mouth moving silently as he carefully and systematically takes Sid apart. Sid had told him once to tone down the dirty talk- it made him uncomfortable hearing the things Geno had to say, even if he was an active participant in actually doing those things- and he wishes, just for a second, that he hadn't. 

"Fuck," Geno mutters. It sounds loud in the bathroom, echoing off the tile. He finally drops the arm he's had wrapped around Sid's chest and winds it around Sid's waist instead, pulling Sid back into him. Sid reaches back to grab Geno's biceps, the muscle hard under his fingertips, and hangs on for the ride. 

Sid comes like that, trapped in place and exposed, shaking against Geno's chest as he tries to keep his knees from going out under him. Geno swears again, his fingers digging into Sid's hip as he thrusts harder, faster. Sid watches them in the mirror through slitted eyes. He looks as wrecked as he feels, as sluggish, but there's something unbearably hot about Geno just using him like this. Sid makes a note to explore that later, when he can think about more than just the feel of Geno's cock against his ass. 

When Geno comes, his nails scrape over Sid's hip, sharp enough to make Sid hiss. They'll sting when he sweats, just like the injury on his chest- a lingering little reminder of this moment. Geno sags forward and Sid scrambles to catch himself on the counter again. The back _and_ front of his sweats are wet and gross and starting to get kind of itchy, but he stays there for a moment, holding Geno up. 

"I _just_ showered," he says eventually. Geno snorts and pats him weakly on the hip before standing back up. Sid shakes out his legs and turns around. He lifts his chin and waits. Geno grins, soft and unbearably smug, and kisses him. 

"Not my fault you have sexy moment," he says against Sid's mouth. He bends farther and brushes his lips over the cut. It tingles, the area around it even more sensitive and tender than it had been when Sid had been poking at it on his own. 

"You're so weird," Sid says. Geno's soft laughter sends goosebumps up his arms. "Fuck, I'm tired. Come on." Sid shoves his nasty sweats off and heads back to the shower. He's going to pass out the second he's horizontal. 

"So much whine," Geno says as he follows Sid in. "Don't know why I'm try."

"Because I put out," Sid says. 

"Yes," Geno agrees, pushing into Sid's space as soon as the shower door is closed. "Only reason."

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to join me on [tumblr](http://notyourlovesong.tumblr.com).


End file.
